So Near Yet So Far
by Graveygraves
Summary: Written for Chit Chat on Author's Corner Valentine's Gift Exchange. New chapters added.  How does Reid and Prentiss' relationship develop when faced with Doyle in her life. Written pre 'Valhalla' and 'Lauren' but has series 6 spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**So Near Yet So Far**

**This is written for the Valentine****'****s gift exchange on Chit Chat on Author****'****s Corner. It does contain some spoilers for Series 6. Thank you to Flashpenguin, who has beta'ed this super quick.**

**My assigned pair was Reid/Prentiss, with the love song & prompts: Far Away by Nickleback (the lyrics I have included are in bold); mismatched Valentine's socks, anonymous Valentine, yellow roses (anti-Valentine's sentiment gets bonus points). All have been used.**

**So Someone aka me; this is for you, I hope you enjoy it. It****'****s a little dark for a Valentine****'****s story, but it was the way the song took me.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**. . . . . . . . . .**

**This time, This place**

**Misused, Mistakes**

**Too long, Too late**

**Who was I to make you wait?**

**Just one chance**

**Just one breath**

**Just in case there****'****s just one left**

**February 2011**

Reid was jittery. Not his normal everyday jittery, super charged jittery. To make it worse, he was aware he was jittery, and that it was about to give away everything that he had planned so carefully. He tried to focus, but his eyes kept going back to the door. She was never late; though he was glad she hadn't been early, which she had a tendency to do, especially recently. It wasn't as if she was very late, it was only five past, but everyone else was in. Without him realising, the speed that he tapped his pencil increased in time with his now twitching leg. '_This is ridiculous__'_ he thought to himself.

"Hey Kid, if you don't calm down she'll know it's you before she even gets to her desk and sees the roses," Morgan grinned at his younger colleague's nervous impatience.

"Umm, sorry?" Reid span round on his chair, to face Morgan, a confused look on his face.

"You are being about as subtle as a sledgehammer; calm down before she gets here or all your hard work will be wasted."

"Sorry Morgan, I really don't know what you are talking about," Reid tried to lie.

"Really?" One eyebrow rose. "So the yellow roses and the card on Prentiss' desk have nothing to do with you this Valentine's day?"

Reid shook his head, as he looked over to her desk, trying to look surprised, as if it was the first time he had seen the thirteen yellow roses, each delicately tipped with red, laying there.

Morgan watched his little display and stifled a giggle, _oh boy, Reid had fallen for her, well and truly._

"Well if it's not you, and it's not me, maybe I should go and ask Hotch or Rossi if they know anything."

"I don't think they'd appreciate it if you did," Spencer was starting to panic; he really didn't need this to become some big deal. He had always liked Emily. He'd felt a connection since they first met. As he got to know her more, he realised it was different to how he felt about JJ and Garcia. He wasn't willing to admit he was in love with her, but he did want to get to know her better, see if they could be more than just friends. Hence the roses, especially chosen, yellow with a red tip; meaning friendship leading to love; and thirteen, not the traditional twelve, as this meant secret admirer. He knew this would be wasted on most people. But he also knew how much Emily loved flowers and her attention to detail meant that she would find out the message behind them, if she didn't already know.

"Well, I am off to find my own sweet Valentine and make sure she knows how much I love her," Morgan got out of his seat.

"You do realise Garcia has a boyfriend?" Reid had never understood Morgan and Garcia's friendship.

"A man can dream, can't he?" Morgan winked. "Just like you've been doing…hey."

Morgan turned towards the door, nearly bumping into Prentiss as she hurried in. "Whoa, you OK, Princess?" Morgan held her arm to steady her after their near miss. "I hope he was worth it. You look like you've been up all night," he joked.

"What if I have?" she snarled at him, jerking her arm back and heading for the coffee.

Truth be told she had been up all night, again. She had been up all night, every night, since she had spoken to Sean McAllister a few weeks ago. In fact the only time she slept now was on the plane or away with the team, it was the only time she felt safe, and then it was lightly, as she was afraid to sleep deeply, she didn't want to dream. She must be the only person in the building praying they got another case soon.

Throwing the deposable cup of the coffee she had just finished into the bin, and grabbing another coffee, she made her way to her desk; she didn't know how long she could keep this up, the more caffeine she drunk, the more she needed to keep her going. As she walked past Reid, she noticed the roses. _Please, no, not here as well;_ she swallowed, praying that they weren't from him! In the pit of her stomach she knew it wasn't, Ian Doyle sent her lilac freesias. _But why would there be flowers on her desk if it wasn__'__t him? _

She flopped into her chair, dropping her bag on the floor. Looking suspiciously around her, he couldn't be here; he couldn't get to her here - here she was safe. As she scanned the room, Reid caught her eye.

"You OK?" he asked.

She nodded. As Spencer got up she noticed his bright socks, one black with scarlet hearts and the other red with a cupid design on it. Suddenly the penny dropped. Valentine's Day, but even for Morgan this was elaborate, usually he just got a humorous card to wind her up, telling her he hated to see a beautiful woman without a single card on Valentine's Day.

"You sure you're OK?" Spencer's expression was fall of concern. Emily had been acting really strangely for the last few weeks.

Looking at his sad eyes, she would like nothing more than to tell him, but she couldn't as she knew what would happen. Once the dam broken the flood would be all consuming; she needed complete control to survive. She'd done it once before, she could do it again.

Emily put on her best smile, one perfected through years of her mother's functions.

"Just a little tired, I didn't sleep well. So is this Morgan's latest wind up?" she nodded towards the flowers.

Spencer tried hard to hide the hurt look on his face; _she thought they were from Morgan_.

"Did you know that it was during the Victorian era that Valentine's cards were first given anonymously; they believed it was bad luck to sign them?"

Spencer's comment brought her attention to the two cards resting on her desk, one propped up against the roses and the other laying in front.

Spencer had noticed the other card when he had arrived this morning. He assumed it was from Morgan, though it didn't look like his writing on the front. Reid watched as Prentiss opened his card. It was modern and unpretentious; he had real trouble finding a card he thought Emily would like. As she slowly opened it a strange looked crossed her face, it was so quick that he begun to think he had imagined the change in her expression.

"Did you know Hallmark has 1330 different Valentine's card designs? Or that only one third of cards are accompanied by a gift? Around one billion cards are sent at Valentine's day, making it the single largest card sending occasion after Christmas. Also Valentine's Day is only celebrated in the States, Canada, Mexico, France and the UK."

Emily was relieved, this wasn't from _him_. She wasn't sure who it was from, but it wasn't Ian Doyle, the relief meant she could breathe again. She looked up at Spencer.

"Help me out Genius; tell me a fact I want to know; who is my secret admirer?"

"Well it wouldn't be a secret if I told you, would it," Spencer could feel himself redden, so he left her desk and returned to his own, watching her from behind his divide, as she opened the second card. This time her change of expression was unmistakable. Her normal calm composed look was distorted with fear. Reaching down she grabbed the bin from under her desk, she threw both cards and the flowers in, than shoved the bin back.

"What's with you today?" Morgan interceded, as he returned to his desk, "Someone went to a lot of effort for you there."

"Well you shouldn't have bothered. Valentine's Day is yet another over merchandised marketing gimmick. It's another day of the year, it doesn't change anything, it doesn't make the world a better place, and it is just an excuse for company fat cats to make more money to line their pockets."

"First it wasn't me. I like you, but not that much, and second try thinking of other people's feelings, because I would say that someone is trying to tell you they are there, and right now you look like you need someone."

"I don't need anyone!" Prentiss stormed out, she needed air.

"Sorry kid," Morgan looked at his hurt colleague.

"Why are you sorry?" he shrugged. "It was a stupid thing to do. I just thought…I know she liked flowers. I just wanted her to smile, she seems so sad recently."

"Something's up, but she won't discuss it, trust me, I've tried." Morgan was as worried as Reid about Prentiss, but if she didn't let them in what could they do?

"I think it had something to do with the second card she got. I'd assumed when I saw it on her desk this morning, it was from you. I know you have always got her one to wind her up."

"Nope, not me, mine's here," Morgan waved the red envelope that had been on his desk. "Figured I didn't like the competition this year."

Both agents made their way to the bin, fishing out the second card.

"Should we be wearing gloves, it may be evidence?" Reid said.

Bumping his head as he looked at Reid, Morgan cursed. "You serious? What do you think is going on?"

"Don't know, but it takes a lot to rattle Emily. So it must be serious."

Emerging from under her desk, they made their way up to the conference room. Not wanting to get caught snooping by Prentiss.

"Well it's an anonymous Valentine's card," Morgan spoke first, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

"An expensive, handmade card - personalised by the look of things," Reid was studying the card carefully. "It must have been made to order, it hasn't got traditional love symbols on it. The freesia is not a Valentine's flower. Some see it as a symbol of innocence and friendship, others say this flower epitomizes grace under pressure and is the ideal way to congratulate someone who kept their cool under difficult circumstances. Seems appropriate for Prentiss, whoever sent this knows her well. The flower is lilac, which is a shade of purple. Purple is the colour of power and luxury, but it is also associated with good judgment and spiritual fulfillment. There is an intricate Celtic design behind the bloom. This card has been designed to send a message, and by Prentiss' reaction I would assume it was loud and clear to her."

"Is there any subject in the world you are not an expert on?" Morgan should have learnt by now not to be amazed by the young genius, yet day in day out he still caught him.

Reid looked at his friend, confused. Blinking he added, "No, not that I'm aware of."

"So, we have an anonymous card and a pissed off Prentiss. Where do we go from here?"

"To Hotch?"

"Do I need to remind you that Prentiss carries a gun, and though I hate to admit it, she is a very good shot? She will use it on us the mood she is in."

"Morgan, you didn't see the look of fear on her face when she opened this card. I would rather her not speak to me and be safe, then lose her forever. Something is frightening her, and we can't ignore it any longer."

Morgan nodded; they made their way to Hotch's office. Not sure what exactly they were going to tell him.


	2. Chapter 2

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**. . . . . . . . . .**

'**Cause you know,**

**You know, you know**

**That I love you**

**I have loved you all along**

**And I miss you**

**Been far away for far too long**

**I keep dreaming you****'****ll be with me**

**And you****'****ll never go**

**Stop breathing if**

**I don****'****t see you anymore**

**February 2011**

Prentiss cut through the tension to get to her desk. Both Morgan and Reid were working hard. Neither spoke, she decided silence was preferable to having to explain her earlier outburst.

Slumping into her chair, she finally took her jacket off and switched on her computer.

Spencer was watching her, over the top of the file he was 'reading'. She looked drained. To the untrained eye Emily was her normal immaculate self. Make-up applied skillfully, dressed smartly, hair perfectly straight. But to the trained profiler she was in pieces; exhausted and running on nervous energy. He wanted to reach out to her help. Even if they were only to be friends, he wanted to know she could trust him. Returning to his file, the words blurred as his mind raced. _What was going on?_

He was startled back to the present by the ring of Prentiss' desk phone. She was quick to answer. Reid glanced at Morgan, who winced.

"Yes, sir," Prentiss returned the handset to the cradle and shot daggers at Reid and Morgan as she stood, turning towards Hotch's office without saying a word.

"I assume you are ready for the fall out?" Morgan muttered.

Reid just nodded, watching her trudge up to their Boss' office.

. . . . . . . . . .

Entering Hotch's office she noticed he had her personal file open on his desk. He also had the Valentine's card she'd received. So they'd been through her bin too. She had guessed as soon as Hotch asked to see her that Reid and Morgan had told him about her foul mood today, but going through her bin, damn.

"Prentiss," Hotch indicated she should sit, "can you tell me what is going on? And please no lies."

Emily sighed; she had hoped it wouldn't come to this.

"Someone I helped put away when I was in Interpol has escaped. He's been sending the team some messages, just trying to scare us."

"Should I be worried?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders.

"Prentiss do I need to remind you that we profile serial killers and other serious criminals every day. If you need help, the team is here for you," Hotch's tone was stern and firm. "Are you going to tell me what is going on or shall I contact Interpol myself?"

Emily almost shriveled under his stare, but somehow she managed to return with one of her own. She would not be the victim for the team to study. She would not have her life picked apart, not even by her friends.

"It is being dealt with Hotch. Sean is dealing with it. He caught him last time; he'll do it again."

"In the mean time you are not alone, the team will provide twenty-four hour cover."

"Sir," Emily started to protest.

"Don't Emily. I know what it is like to try and face something like this alone. Maybe if I'd been better at letting the team in I wouldn't have lost Haley." Hotch shoulders slumped. "This is not up for discussion, and Reid has offered to come home with you tonight, unless you would prefer to stay at his?"

"Reid," Emily sighed. "What's he going to do? Bore him to death."

As she huffed out of his office Hotch considered bringing her back, but decided talking to her when she was like this was futile.

. . . . . . . . . .

Reid and Morgan looked up as Prentiss left Hotch's office. Her face said it all, they didn't need to ask.

"I hope you two are pleased with yourselves," she snapped, sitting at her desk. Neither spoke, everyone returned to their work.

The rest of the day passed slowly and silently. No one dared to say a thing. Morgan decided he'd be the first to make a move. Packing his things up, he paused by Reid's desk.

"Good luck, lover boy. If you need back up, just call."

Reid shot him a look.

"I mean it. I'm not kidding now!"

Prentiss watched him leave and returned to her work, without saying a word. One by one the bullpen emptied. Soon it was just Spencer and Emily. Both still working. Emily wondered how long it would be before he gave up.

"Shall I order something for us to eat here, or would you prefer to eat when we get home?"

Emily looked up at the skinny genius hovering by her desk, coffee cup in hand. She wanted to be cross with him. She wanted to scream and shout, but she couldn't, not when he looked at her the way he did now. Looking down his socks caught her attention again. Then it dawned on her. She had got so wrapped up in the card from Doyle that she had forgotten the other card she had received with the flowers. They were from Reid. Only Spencer would know what yellow roses with a red tip mean. Even after she had been mean to him all day, here he stood ready to protect her, without even knowing what he was protecting her from. She felt such a bitch, but really didn't want any new complications in her life. Yet she submitted to Hotch's order of Reid being her back up for tonight.

"Depends if we're going to yours or mine?"

Spencer looked confused. "Why?"

"I've not got any food in my house; I haven't been staying there since Los Angeles."

"Mine it is. Though take out may still be the better option. Should we travel together?"

_Bless him_, Emily thought. She nodded and they got ready to leave. Just before they went Emily reached under her desk, pulling out the roses and the card. Spencer watched.

"Thank you," she whispered.

. . . . . . . . . .

Entering Spencer's apartment, Emily realised he was single, yet at the same time she was curiously interested by all the books. They gave the rooms a kind of musky smell, pleasant and reassuring. Spencer passed her the phone and menus.

"Order what you like, I need to go."

Emily smiled as Spencer wriggled uncomfortably. She realised it was the first time she'd genuinely smiled in weeks.

When Spencer returned, Emily was just putting the phone down.

"All ordered," she chirped. "Have you got any wine?"

Emily hadn't relaxed in weeks, yet somehow she felt secure. She was surprised how safe Spencer made her feel.

"Sure," Reid wasn't much of a drinker, but when he did he enjoyed fine wines and expensive brandy. He returned with a bottle of French red and a two glasses.

Emily looked approvingly at the bottle. He had taste, far more than most guys she'd spent Valentine's Day with in the past.

They chatted as they waited for their food. Emily was glad that Spencer wasn't asking the questions that she knew he was dying to know the answers to. She was glad of the distraction. The last thing she wanted to talk about was Ian Doyle.

When the bell finally rung, Spencer went to answer; usually when he came in from work he took his gun off, but not today. He rested his hand on it ready, just in case. He was aware that Emily still hadn't told him what he was protecting her against.

Looking at the screen, he saw the delivery guy standing outside. He buzzed him in. Spencer opened his front door ready and on guard. As he did he realised his wallet had fallen out of his pocket. Returning to the lounge he grabbed it off the couch.

As he got back to the front door he waited. It seemed to be taking a long time for the food to get up to his apartment. The lift was working, so what was the delay? Sticking his head out into the corridor, the pain from the blow he received barely registered before he slumped into unconsciousness.

. . . . . . . . . .


	3. Chapter 3

**So Near Yet So Far**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**. . . . . . . . . .**

**On my knees, I****'****ll ask**

**Last chance for one last dance**

'**Cause with you, I****'****d withstand**

**All of hell to hold your hand**

**I****'****d give it all**

**I****'****d give for us**

**Give anything but won****'****t give up**

'**Cause you know,**

**February 2011**

The room was spinning, Reid had only felt pain like this once before in his life, at the hands of Tobias Hankle. _What on earth had happened?_ He tried to think clearly - to remember. He could hear a voice he didn't recognise. He was still in his apartment; he recognised the table legs in front of him. Then it stuck him; _Emily! He was supposed to be protecting Emily!_ He couldn't see or hear her from where he was. Panic crept rapidly over him. He shivered, trying his best to sit up, using the wall behind him for leverage, as his hands were tightly tied.

"Ah look, your little friend is ready to join us," Ian Doyle's tone was menacing to say the least.

Reid looked at Emily, she was sat on his couch, and the fear in her eyes sent another ice cold shiver down his spine.

"So, what have you told your puppy dog about me?" Doyle turned back to face Emily. "You have told him about me, haven't you?"

Emily shook her head, looking down, she couldn't meet Reid's gaze. She had got him into this, he'd followed her blindly and now she had no idea how they would both get out. She had already agreed to everything Doyle had asked her to do, to protect Spencer from any further harm. She couldn't see him hurt because of her own stupid pride. She should have known she couldn't face this on her own, yet pride had stopped her reaching to her friends for help. Hotch's words rung through her mind over and over again: '_Maybe if I__'__d been better at letting the team in I wouldn__'__t have lost Haley__'__._

"Oh dear . . . Oh dear," a sick smile crossed Doyle's face as he paced around the couch. "Secrets already, this doesn't bode well for your future together, but then again neither do I!"

Emily's worse nightmare was unraveling in front of her. She shook her head, praying that she might wake and this was truly just a cruel dream. It wasn't.

Doyle walked towards Reid. "Dr Spencer Reid; see Emily, I have done my homework. I assumed you would use your new team to find me. I have heard you have quite a successful reputation. I must admit I'm disappointed that I had to come and find you; I was hoping you'd find me, I enjoy playing games. But never mind." Doyle crouched down, studying Reid. "I am a little surprised you made it into the FBI, you don't seem the action hero type; now Agents Morgan, Hotchner and Rossi I can see, but you, you're something different. What is it you do for the team?"

Reid tried to speak, but words failed him. Swallowing he knew he had to rely on his intelligence to out think this man, whoever he was. The problem was that Reid had no details or facts to work with. No profile on which to base his conversation.

"I'm a behavioural analysis. A profiler."

"Really, sounds . . . dull!" Ian concluded, spinning round to face Emily again. "Could you not find anyone better than this, or are you still pining for me after all these years?" His laugh was harsh and callous. He made his way to sit next to Emily, touching her cheek to wipe away a single tear. "I have thought of you every night since we were separated. You have been in every single one of my dreams. Would you like to know what I have dreamed of doing to you Emily? Or should I keep that as a surprise?"

Spencer wanted to get the man's hands off of Emily. He could see she was shaking. He was starting to put pieces of the puzzle together, yet he couldn't say that it made sense. This man had obviously played a part in Emily's past and he could assume the story didn't end happily.

"Did I tell you I bumped into a mutual friend over the weekend?" Emily shook her head. His hand moved down her body from her face; down her neck, along her shoulder and traced the length of her arm, resting on her hand. "Sean and I met up last night. He was more than a little surprised to see me. He won't need to worry about us meeting again . . . if you follow what I'm saying."

"He's dead," Emily's voice was barely audible.

"Of course, as you all will be by the time I have finished," Doyle leant in close whispering in her ear, "but it's not your turn yet. I'm saving the best 'til last. Tonight is just a warning. My way of making sure that you live the rest of your days in fear, knowing that I am watching and waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment, and when it comes, you . . . will be . . . all . . . mine!"

Emily froze, she couldn't even begin to imagine what he had in store for her, and she didn't want to be able to picture it.

Pulling back from her, Doyle stood. "But that leaves me with a small problem. I can't get myself all worked up like this without some . . . personal release," his same sickening smile returned. "And if I want to keep you perfect for the future then it will have to be Dr Reid who suffers tonight, won't it?"

"No," Emily screamed, standing to stop him. "No, please, take me…take me with you tonight. Please don't hurt him. He's done nothing wrong. He doesn't even know your name. Take me…I'll do anything."

"How touching, but you are breaking the rules Emily. I made myself clear you were to sit on the sofa and behave or he would get hurt. Look at you, standing, breaking the rules…tut-tut. Sit down!" he hollered at her with such force that she fell back onto the couch, shaking.

"Please . . . please . . . don't," she whispered.

"I'll make you a promise, a new deal. Sit there like a good girl, don't move, and don't say a word and I'll make it quick. The more fuss you make the more I'll hurt him. Try and fight me and I'll tie you up then carry on. Deal, Emily?"

"No, you can't, it's me you want."

"And it's you I'm getting, just indirectly," as he spoke, he slashed down Reid's right arm, shoulder to elbow.

Spencer didn't want to scream, he wanted to be strong for Emily, but he couldn't help it. It hurt like hell. He had prepared to face anything to protect her, but if only she had trusted him enough to let him know what coming. He watched her now; it was the only thing he could focus on as he was attacked, again and again. She sat still and silent, trying to keep her part of the deal in the slimmest of chance that he would stop soon. As he started to fade, he noticed she was mouthing 'I'm sorry', over and over again.

After what seemed like forever Doyle stood. He walked over to Emily and hit her, hard. That should buy him enough time.

. . . . . . . . . .

As Emily came round she saw Spencer lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. She grabbed the phone with one hand as she made her way to his side. As she dialed 911, she felt for a pulse. It was faint, but there.

"Spencer, I'm here, don't leave me. I'm not giving up on you."

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I'm Special Agent Emily Prentiss, I have an officer down! Repeat, I have an officer down! I need an ambulance straight away," she gave Spencer's address then put the phone down.

Rushing through to the kitchen to get towels - anything to try and reduce Spencer's bleeding - she rung Hotch.

"Reid, what's the matter?"

"Hotch, it's Emily. Spencer's hurt, an ambulance is on the way. I'll meet you at the hospital. I think I need to talk to the team."

Putting the phone down, Emily returned to Spencer.

"I'm so sorry," Emily took his hand, hoping he could feel her touch above the pain. "I'd give anything right now… Please don't give up."


	4. Chapter 4

**So Near Yet So Far**

**OK, so final chapter. **

**I would just like to say that I am completely overwelmed by the support I've had for this story, be it reviews, alerts or favourites and each is so, so, so appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**. . . . . . . . . .**

**So far away**

**Been far away for far too long**

**So far away**

**Been far away for far too long**

**But you know, you know, you know**

**February 2011**

Emily paced since she was incapable of standing still, incapable of sitting. She needed to be on the move. Sitting still had not helped Reid; it had not made it any easier, quicker, and less painful. He had suffered and she had sat and watched. Watch her friend be tortured and all because of her. Emily was either unaware or no longer cared about the tears racing down her face. She couldn't stop them now, even if she wanted to. She heard the steps coming down the bright corridor. _How was she supposed to explain this?_

"Emily, you OK?" Rossi asked, as the team approached.

Shaking her head she slumped into the nearest chair, head in her hands. Morgan sat beside her, his strong arm around her shoulder.

"What happened, Emily? Talk to us; we're here to help," Morgan's tone was quiet and gentle.

She looked up. "It's a long story… I didn't lie to you Hotch, it is all because of an Interpol case, but he's killed Sean, and Reid is in a really bad way and now he's coming back for me."

The whole story tumbled out of Emily as she tried to explain the past that had lead to the present. As she finished a doctor appeared.

"Family of Spencer Reid?" he questioned.

She rose to meet him. He looked around at the whole team and paused before speaking.

"It's OK; we're all as good as family. Spencer's next of kin is in Las Vegas, we're all he has."

"I will be honest with you, he has received a number of serious injuries alongside many superficial ones," the doctor explained. Emily could hear Garcia's gasp as the doctor continued: "He has lost a lot of blood. He barely got to us in time, and he's not out of the woods yet. The next 24 hours will be critical. After that I will start to give you odds on his survival."

"What . . . are . . . you . . . saying?" Prentiss stammered.

"I'm saying your friend is going to be lucky to survive this. If he makes it through tomorrow I'll start to consider what happens next, but right now it's my job to make him comfortable."

"No drugs; Reid won't want drugs," Morgan knew how Reid felt about narcotics.

The doctor didn't answer. He turned to Emily, "You can sit with him if you like, and some people believe it helps."

Prentiss turned to the team. "I'm staying here, no matter what, I'm not leaving him."

They nodded in agreement.

Hotch stepped forward. "I'll speak to someone at Interpol and find out what is being done. We'll start the profile tonight. Morgan will stay here until I can arrange a guard outside the room. You won't be alone."

"In my bag, at Reid's, is my copy of our file. It has everything I have got connected to the original case. If it helps, take it."

Emily left the team and entered Reid's room.

Hotch turned to face Morgan, he didn't have to say anything, Morgan understood.

. . . . . . . . . .

Morgan opened the door slowly; he had never seen Emily looking so vulnerable. She was sat beside Reid, silent tears streaked her cheeks. Morgan couldn't remember ever seeing her cry before today. She was always so composed; she dealt with things head on then filed them away and carried on, but not now. He made his way over, perching on the side of Reid's bed. Emily looked up at him, desperation in her eyes. Looking at Reid he could see why, he looked dreadful, so pale and ghostly. Morgan struggled to keep his composure.

"He'll be ok," Morgan reassured, "He's tougher than any of us give him credit for."

She nodded, returning to her vigil.

"It was Spencer who gave me the roses today."

It was a statement, not a question, but Morgan felt he needed to answer.

"You figured him out; he was so nervous before you arrived this morning," Morgan smiled remembering his young colleague's anticipation, it seemed longer ago than this morning. _Who would have thought the day would end like this? _"I don't think I have ever seen him so jittery. For once even I wasn't going to wind him up; nearly did though, yellow roses - who buys yellow roses on Valentine's Day?"

"Someone who wants to send a special message - a man like Dr Reid, that's who," she half smiled, "See Spencer puts thought into his gifts."

"So what was his special message, hidden in a bunch of flowers?"

"Yellow roses signify friendship, something I have always cherished having with Spencer," she gulped, trying to hold back another wave of sobs. "But yellow roses tipped with red represent friendship leading to love. It was his subtle way of telling me he wanted more."

"Do you?"

Emily tried to shrug, but looking at Spencer she could deny her feelings no longer.

"I kissed him once . . . I was drunk. He was such a gentleman and wouldn't let me make a fool of myself. He said he only wanted me if I was sober enough to know what I was doing. He couldn't risk losing me as a friend. He said he'd wait until I was ready. I have kept him waiting far too long."

Morgan hugged Emily close, pulling away he looked down at her. "Tell him; give him something to live for. I know not everyone believes that what you say can be heard, but Pen told me she heard me when Battle shot her - not all of it but enough to know I was there and not giving up. Don't give up on him Emily."

"But I caused all this! If I hadn't been so proud, if I had told you all what was going on . . . "

"Reid didn't care. He was willing to be there for you regardless. He's been through hell for you . . . help him out the other side."

Morgan got up, leaving Emily and Spencer alone. He stayed outside the room until his replacements came.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Emily sat in silence for what seemed like forever. She didn't know where to start. Sighing she tried.

"I'm sorry Spencer, so sorry. I never meant for anyone to get hurt, least of all you. If I could change it I would," she sighed again, "I should have trusted you, I should have told you, and I should have asked the team for help."

Emily knew what she wanted to say, yet she knew she was still skirting around the issue.

"I love you Spencer Reid. I shouldn't have made you wait so long," she sobbed, "Please come back to me. I need to hear you say that you love me and that you forgive me."

Exhaustion begun to consume Emily's body. "I'm not leaving, hold on to me and never let go."

Emily fell asleep in the chair beside Spencer. Her head resting on his arm as she held his hand tightly in hers.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Rossi watched from the window as he spoke to the doctor. Spencer had made it through the night and part way through the following day.

"The signs are promising; he seemed to make major gains during the night. His vital signs are all good. To put it in your terms, he's fighting back."

Rossi smiled_, it__'__s amazing what the love of a good woman can do to a man. _He made his way quietly into the room. On the table, in the corner of the room, he placed the roses that Spencer had bought Emily. Turning he realised Emily was waking.

"Thought you two might appreciate these. How you doing?"

"I ache, I'm tired and I'm pissed off, but otherwise great."

"Now that's the Emily I'm use to seeing," Rossi smiled, he knew she wouldn't be down for long, "Good news from the doctor on the way in, our young genius is doing well. Who knows he could be spouting facts about percentages of fatal knife wounds by the end of the day."

"To be honest I would love to hear a real of random Reid facts right now."

"Wouldn't we all . . . wouldn't we all?"

. . . . . . . . . . . .

As days turned to weeks, Spencer grew stronger and stronger. It would be a long time until he was back in the field, but the team were just glad to have him back. They knew he was recovering well the day he gave them a complete run down of the statistical probilities of his survival over the first 48 hours according to his records. Though they all groaned, Reid knew not one of them meant it. As the team left to continue their work, a mix of continuing to help Interpol find Doyle and general cases that rose in between, Prentiss held back.

"You know you are the last to leave every time the team visit?" Reid noted.

"You've noticed."

"I have and eidetic memory, I remember everything,"

Emily rolled her eyes as she sat down beside him. She nervously fiddled with the bed sheets.

"Is there something you want to say?" he watched her fiddling with fascination.

"Did you hear me?"

Reid couldn't help but smile. "What do you mean Emily?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "When you were sedated, I stayed here with you. I talked to you, told you things," she looked down, unable to meet his eye.

Reid decided to put her out of her misery. "I love you and I forgive you."

Emily looked up at Spencer. He wiped a tear from her cheek.

"But please . . . no more secrets"

. . . . . . . . . . . .

**I wanted**

**I wanted you to stay**

'**Cause I needed **

**I need to hear you say**

**That I love you**

**I have loved you all along**

**And I forgive you**

**For beginning away for far too long**

**So keep breathing**

'**Cause I****'****m not leaving you anymore**

**Believe it**

**Hold on to me and, never let me go**

**Keep breathing**

'**Cause I****'****m not leaving you anymore**

**Believe it**

**Hold on to me and, never let me go**

**. . . . . . . . . . .**

**That's it for now, but I am not ruling out a sequel (when Flashpenguin beta'ed it she suggested I carry on). However this story has been 100% muse driven and will remain so. **

**Someone aka Me – I hope you enjoyed this, your prompts were amazing, especially the song. Anyone that doesn't know it I recommend finding it on youtube, the video inspired me to take the hero root with this story. **

**Lastly thanks to Flashpenguin for her time. It is truly appreciated .**


	5. Chapter 5

**So Near So Far ****–**** Part 2**

**OK so my muse has returned to play. I am trying to keep up with what is happening with Series 6 stateside (oh how we love the internet) as in the UK we are a bit behind, so please bear in mind I started writing this before the episodes ****'****Valhalla****'**** and ****'****Lauren****'****. Therefore I have decided to stick with an idea that I mentioned on CCOAC spoilers' thread, I am aware this is not how the story develops on screen, but I had to stick with something that would follow part 1 of my story.**

**Thank you to Flashpenguin, who Betas my stories, for prompting me to kick back and listen to some music, it helped. As the first part of the story used a Nickleback song for the prompt I decided to stick with them for inspiration. So thanks to Someone aka Me who has reminded me how good Nickleback is (so long since I listened to them). The song I have used is ****'****Never Gonna Be Alone****'**** (the lyric are in bold at the beginning and/or end of each chapter).**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas**

**. . . . . .**

**Time, is going by, so much faster than I  
And I'm starting to regret not spending all of here with you  
Now I'm wondering why I've kept this bottled inside  
So I'm starting to regret not selling all of it to you  
So if I haven't yet, I've gotta let you know  
**

Reid busied himself packing, receiving the news today that he could go home was all the motivation he needed to get out of bed and do something. He had spent too long in hospital and was desperate to see outside the four bland walls that had faced him these last few months. The whole time had been a complex spiral of events, emotions and revelations, and he needed the peace and tranquility of his own home to process it all.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Prentiss enter his room. She paused, watching him pack. She could tell from his tentative movements that he was still in a great deal of discomfort. Yet she knew he would take nothing to dull the pain; he reasoned that this way he knew his limits, if it hurt too much he'd stop. But Prentiss knew he worried about succumbing to his previous addiction.

Watching him, she wished she had something to dull her pain, to take it all away. She had been living in fear for nearly half the year, and it was starting to wear her down. She knew she looked tired, her nerves were frayed, she'd lost weight and was struggling to control her emotions. She longed for an end, whatever the end may be.

Making her way over to Reid, she coughed quietly, to make him aware of her presence. Turning rapidly, they both realised his hand was on his gun. Prentiss raised an eyebrow.

"Jumpy, Dr Reid?"

He shrugged, wincing in pain and regretting the action, placing his gun back by his bag.

"So, they are letting you out," Emily stated the obvious.

"No, I thought you could take my laundry home with you, so I wanted to make it easy for you by packing it first."

This time Prentiss raised the other eyebrow. "Sorry, I think you need to stay here, there is obviously something seriously wrong with you; you've developed a sense of humour!"

Reid threw the shirt that was in his hands at her, laughing, and regretting it, again! As Emily smiled he noticed the redness to her eyes, she had obviously been crying. Resting back on the bed he looked intently at her.

"Emily you have come to see me every single day that I have been in hospital, and I have appreciated every moment of your time."

"But" she added for him, as she made her way towards him, standing uncertainly between his outstretched legs.

"But there is something different about you today." He couldn't resist tracing his thumb down her cheek, rubbing off the smudge of mascara from under her eye.

"I need to talk to you."

"That sounds serious. You do know that laughter has been proven to improve patience recuperation times?" Reid didn't know if he could cope with more bad news, yet he had promised himself he would be there for her, regardless. She would not face this alone.

"I'm going into witness protection," she stopped, waiting for a reaction. Nothing came. "I am on my way now, but I couldn't leave without saying goodbye."

Spencer was speechless. Since their Valentine's disaster he had grown exceedingly close to Emily. He had waited eagerly each day for her visits; they had been his only stimulation, interaction with an equal. Just as he thought he was making grounds with her, gained her trust, her companionship, she was being taken away. He had thought his confinement had felt like a lifetime, now it had not been long enough. He had so much more to say to her.

"I could come with you . . . be part of your new life," he stuttered, looking hopefully into her eyes.

She shook her head, unable to look at him. "I need to do this alone. I can't risk anyone, especially not you, Spencer . . . especially not you," she leant towards him, kissing him gently on the forehead.

Holding back the tears that welled, Spencer once again touched Emily's face, kissing her lightly on the lips for the first time.

"We can do this together, I would do it all again for you. Don't try and protect me. Let me protect you," he paused. "I promise to do a better job this time." His half smile tried to lighten the moment.

"No, Spencer, my mind is made up. I just needed to say goodbye and thank you. I will never forget what you did, what you have been through," she hesitated, watching the pain creep across his face. "I have one last thing to ask of you, before I go."

Spencer nodded, pulling her close to him, "Anything." He drew in a deep breath, the smell of her perfume engraving itself on his mind.

Emily pulled away, Spencer was not making this easy for her, and she hadn't expected he would.

"Forget me. Move on, find someone else. You have to face the fact that this could be forever."

Shaking his head, Spencer could hold back the tears no longer. He reached out to hold her hand.

"I can't, you know I can't. I love you Emily. I thought you loved me."

His words broke her, shattering her fragile world into a million pieces. She couldn't answer him, with one feather light kiss, she stood and left. She didn't look back, she just kept walking, out of the room, out of the hospital and into the waiting SUV.

. . . . . .

When Morgan arrived to collect Reid he was surprised to see him sitting on the bed staring out of the window, it was obvious he had been crying. Tentatively he opened the door.

"Hey kid," he said, trying to gauge a reaction.

Reid spun away from him. He knew it was too late, that Morgan had seen the state he was in, but he needed to gain control. If Morgan could be cool about Emily leaving so could he.

"Reid, talk to me, what's going on?" still no answer. "You're still OK to come home, aren't you?"

Reid nodded slightly not trusting himself to answer.

"Too be honest I was surprised when I got your call. I assumed when Prentiss left earlier she was on her way over," Morgan continued.

Reid's back straightened. Morgan didn't know, she hadn't told him. Turning to face his colleague he could see the confusion on his face.

"Emily's gone, she didn't tell you?" Reid's tone was flat and dull. But there was also unspoken pain and heartbreak.

"What do you mean she's _gone_?"

"Witness protection, she came to say goodbye before she left. I assumed she'd told you guys too."

"What the . . ." Morgan hit the nearby door frame in unbridled anger. "How long ago was this? There is still time to stop her; she doesn't need witness protection! She needs us, the team."

"Morgan, she has gone. It's her decision; she doesn't want to put the team in danger."

"They can't keep her safe the way we can. They didn't keep Haley safe. Goddamnit, if I'd known . . ."

Reid couldn't help smiling; he could now see why Emily had not told Morgan, this reaction in the middle of the bullpen would have been interesting. Morgan could be so over protective of his team mates.

"We can't stop her, we can't change her, but we can continue to help her."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"We track down Doyle and make it safe for her to return."

"That simple," Morgan sniggered. "What do you think we have been doing while you've been sat on your arse enjoying all the nurses' attention?"

"I think you're confusing me with you," Reid smirked, "You have only visited me to hit on the nurses. Also I haven't been sat here doing nothing for the last few months. Garcia showed me what to do with one of those I-pad thingies, I been working with all the evidence she could give me, and feeding it back to Garcia for the team. So yes, I know that we're not much further forward, but I'm not going back into the field with my injuries. If I stay with Garcia I can continue to work on it, even when you guys are on a case. We can do this Morgan, we can get her back. We have to."

Morgan could see the desperation in his young colleagues face; his heart went out to him. Reid wasn't going to give up. He didn't know how Hotch would be about such extra-curricular activities but he knew Garcia would help and was damn sure Rossi would be in.

"OK, but it can't interfere with our cases or we'll get Hotch into more trouble. You know Strauss is always looking for an excuse to take the team apart. Let's not give her one," Morgan warned, "Now are you coming home with me or staying here another night?"

"I'll be ok at mine, thank you."

"It's not up for discussion genius, for someone so bright you can be so dumb sometimes." Morgan lifted Reid's bag and made his way over to the door. "Coming?"

Cautiously Reid got up and followed Morgan out.

. . . . . . .


	6. Chapter 6

**So Near Yet So Far – Part 2**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing but the ideas **

**You're never gonna be alone from this moment on  
If you ever feel like letting go, I won't let you fall  
You're never gonna be alone, I'll hold you 'til the hurt is gone**

_**. . . . . . . **_

Walking back into the bullpen, Reid felt uncomfortable. He could tell people's eyes were on him. He could hear them whispering, the words weren't audible, but the sentiment was. Pity, sympathy, empathy – _what did they know?_ Not one of them knew how he felt right now.

As he got to his desk, he looked over to Emily's desk. It was just the way she left it. Pens by the pot, files piled high, and the mess showed how she had started to unravel. He had seen how it had worn her down physically over the months, but this was the final evidence. The difference hit him hard.

The last time he had sat at his desk had been Valentine's Day. A cold and wet one. He had placed a bunch of red tipped, yellow roses on her desk. He had pinned his hope on becoming part of Emily's life. Now as the summer sun shone into the room, Reid realised that his friend was all alone somewhere. He had wanted to be there for her, by her side. But she had decided to go it alone. _Would they ever know if something happened to her? Would they ever see her again? _

Morgan had brought Reid in. He had insisted that Spencer stay with him while he continued to recuperate. Reid had been unsure, but to be honest he had decided that he had been glad of the company.

Over the years Reid had grown close to Morgan, he could tell him things that he hadn't told the others. Yes, Morgan teased him and he definitely didn't understand all his jokes with the others. But right now Morgan was listening, without judgment.

Looking up from his desk, Morgan was concerned to see his friend staring into space. From his office he could see Reid directly. He was aware of the feelings Reid had for Prentiss, and how her visits to the hospital had raised his hopes. He knew that Reid had cried himself to sleep all weekend, and that he had dreamt, a lot. He was reaching out to him; he wasn't going to let him fall.

Leaving his office and heading down to the bullpen, he stopped at Reid's desk. "Coffee?"

"Uh?" The young agent gave a blank look as he tried to comprehend the request.

"Do . . . you . . . want . . . a . . . coffee?" Morgan drew out the question as he watched Reid; he hadn't taken his eyes off Prentiss' desk.

"Nah, I'm good," Reid waved in the vague direction of a mug.

"You know it won't get her back?"

"Sorry?" Reid finally looked up. "What won't?"

"Sitting at your desk staring at Prentiss' desk. You want her back, so put your money where your mouth is and figure how we get Doyle first." Morgan left Reid to make himself a coffee.

He was considering swinging by Hotch's office, it was too soon for Reid to be back at work; it hadn't even been a week since he left hospital. He knew Reid had insisted on returning. _God that kid was stubborn_. However he was cut short as Hotch called them all into the conference room. . . . . . .

As Garcia briefed the team, Reid tried to focus. The images blurred as his head hurt; _this was not the time for another migraine_. He reached for the remains of his coffee, knowing that fifty-eight per cent of patients given caffeine instead of a painkiller or a caffeine-painkiller combination said that their headache disappeared, feeling better up to half an hour sooner than those on painkillers. He hoped he was part of the fifty-eight percent today. He needed to prove he could do his job.

Hotch had been wary about letting him come back so soon. He was aware he was being watched.

Looking at the images in front of him he was struck by how similar to Emily the victims seemed to be. He didn't dare say a word, assuming the others would think he was projecting his problems onto the case.

He stared at their rich dark hair and distinct features. Each set of striking eyes stared back at him, willing him to help them. He shook his head, trying to shift the pain and the memories flooding his mind.

"I suggest we get there as soon as we can, once we land Dave and Morgan you can head out to the victims homes, split them between you. Seaver you will head to the field office with me and Agent Jareau."

_What?_ Reid snapped back. JJ was back? Since when? Morgan hadn't mentioned anything.

"JJ will meet us on the plane. Strauss managed to secure her while we are short staffed, once Reid is back in the field, JJ will return to the Pentagon. Any questions before we leave?" Hotch continued.

"Is there any specific aspect you wish me to look at?" Reid noted he hadn't been assigned a specific duty.

"You'll help Garcia when she requests it, other than that I thought you might like to continue to work at your own pace on some of our 'longer term projects.'"

Reid's eyes narrowed in a questioning manner.

"What the Boss man is saying is that, for the second time in your life, you're my bitch," Garcia chirped but her tone was kind.

"I wouldn't quite put it like that but I'm sure Garcia will explain," Hotch smiled at the technical analysis' way with words.

. . . . . . .

Reid sat quietly in Garcia's office. He watched in awe as she worked multiple screens and strings of information. He wanted to help, but to be honest didn't want to interrupt her perfected routine. He realised how overlooked Garcia's talents were. He started to fidget and fiddle with her numerous trinkets.

"Honey, I love your company, but right now this is my playground, why don't you find something to occupy that uber brilliant mind of yours."

"Like what?"

"Sweetie," Penelope spun away from the screens to face him, "do you really need me to spell out Hotch's orders to you? He gave you the green light to stay here and work on tracing Doyle. Now I know you want our raven haired superwoman back more than I do, so go save her Batman." Garcia handed him a bundle of files from her drawer.

"Hotch never mentioned Doyle," the confusion clear on his face. Garcia rolled her eyes.

"You really need to learn to read between the lines. Trust me, he said it, loud and clear to us mere mortals. If I can help, let me know, I can multi-task you know," she chuckled at his ignorance and returned to her background searches.

. . . . . .

Reid returned to his desk. He busied himself looking through the files. In one he instantly recognised Emily. It contained personnel sheets, one had a picture of her with long wavy hair, other than that she had changed very little since it was taken.

He wondered what Emily was like when she was younger. It made him realised how little he knew of her past. He had found out more in the last few months than he had in the past few years. They had sat in hospital, chatting for hours on end. She would often stay all night. Now he really couldn't say what they talked about, not specifically, they just talked, endlessly.

It amazed him how he could memorise the smallest of details, yet their nights together seemed such a blur. He sat reading everything, the information he hadn't previously seen, Garcia had sent him as much as she could but there was stuff here he hadn't seen before. One file had notes written down the edge. They were in Italian, yet he recognised it as Emily's handwriting. Soon he was head down and back to normal, the caffeine must have worked.

. . . . . .

He wandered aimlessly back into Garcia's office, munching on a chocolate chip muffin.

Entering without knocking, he flopped into the nearest chair. Garcia jumped at his intrusion into her personal space.

"You know there was a reason doors were invented Dr Reid," she said.

"Mmmm?" his eyebrows questioning, and his mouth full of muffin.

"So you could knock before you enter."

Reid looked round him. "I don't think that was the reason for their invention."

"Please save me the explanation," Garcia put her hand up to halt him, "tell me how you dare to come here without a muffin for me."

He looked down at the half eaten cake and shrugged. Garcia giggled at how oblivious he was to the effect of his actions on others.

"So, sweetie, what brings you to this lair of this mighty amazing computer geek?"

"I've found a couple of things in Prentiss' files that I need help with."

"Really?"

"Some of her notes are in Italian, and I can translate, but they don't seem to make sense, the bits I've done so far. Is there a quicker way to find out what they mean?"

"Oh my baby genius, I can do better than that. But before I do you have to swear to absolute, cross your heart, without a shadow of a doubt secrecy," Garcia scooted herself closer to him, "What I'm about to share with you is not necessarily considered 'appropriate use of FBI resources', it's kinda a 'Garcia thing'."

"A 'Garcia thing'?" Reid questioned, intrigued but worried.

She smiled weakly, "The sort of 'thing' that Hotch talks to me about, after I've done it," rapidly shaking her head, "and he doesn't know about this 'thing'. No-one does."

"Is it going to get us in trouble?"

"Maybe," she bit her lip nervously. Reid shrugged; if it helped Emily then it could only be a good 'thing'.

"I've set up a secret communication pathway with Emily," the look of horror on his face made Garcia regret telling him, quickly she added, "she's scared Reid, she doesn't want to admit it, but she is. She needs us more than ever. It's a secure as I can make it, and I will know if anyone tries to trace or hack it. It will not give away her location or anything else. I have no idea where she is, but we can talk, she needs her friends right now." Garcia didn't have to justify her actions to him. He was just grateful she could do things he didn't even know were possible.

"Let me talk to her, please."

"I'll ask her, it's controlled by Em, she might not want you involved, if not I can ask her the questions for you." Garcia set about contacting Emily, leaving a message explaining how Reid wanted help with her notes.

Together they waited for her response.


	7. Chapter 7

**So Near Yet So Far ****–**** Part 2**

**Disclaimer ****–**** I own nothing but the ideas**

**And now, as long as I can, I'm holding on with both hands  
'Cause forever I believe  
That there's nothing I could need but you  
So if I haven't yet, I've gotta let you know**

**. . . . . . **

Reid busied himself at his desk. He tapped his pencil nervously waiting for Garcia to call him back to her room. _What if Emily didn__'__t want to speak to him? Did she trust Garcia more than him? How safe was it to communicate with her like this? How much trouble would they be in if anyone found out? _It was times like this when he wished his mind wasn't as active as it was. He wished he could forget.

The buzz of his phone was enough to have him up and out of his seat, before he had even checked it was Garcia. Grabbing the files, he made his way rapidly to her office; he looked round before entering, as if someone may figure out what they were up to.

Sitting next to Garcia he stared at the screen. He didn't know what he expected to see but it wasn't this, whatever this was, it made no sense to him.

"Sweetie, did you read the message I sent you or just arrive blindly?"

Reid turned and looked Garcia. She could see the eagerness in his eyes, which answered her question.

Putting a hand on his, she looked into his eyes. "Hotch wants to talk to us about the case."

Reid dropped his head; he had assumed it was a message from Emily. He was gutted. Pulling himself together he faced the screen ready for their link up with the team.

. . . . . .

Garcia had a long list of tasks to complete, but she halted Reid's departure.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked half heartedly, though the distraction might be good.

"Yes, when I pull these files up you can sit and read through them a lot quicker than me. I know you prefer things on paper, but this is my world, so my rules."

Reid nodded, shifting round to her right and getting comfortable in front of the screen she had indicated he would use. He could read it quick enough. Looking quickly at what started to come up to be honest, none of it was the sort of information that you wanted to linger on. As he started reading he understood why Garcia had wanted him to read through the records. He knew how this sort of information upset her. The team had profiled that the killer had been abused in the past herself. He had the job of reading the records of ten possible suspects that they had already. He tried focus on the information in front of him. He knew how unusual it was for the killer to be female, especially how rare it was that female killers were as violent as this, but to be honest all of these women had been through horrendous ordeals as they grew up, enough to make any of them a killer.

As he read more he became distracted by a regular beeping nose coming from one of Garcia's computers. Looking at her, she seemed oblivious to the sound as she focused on the screen to her left.

Reid tried to block it out and continue, but he couldn't.

"Garcia, is that not annoying?"

"What honey?"

"That noise!" he gave by way of an explanation.

"Uh," she finally paused and looked up. "Oh!" She pushed her glasses back up her nose as she spun round to her personal laptop.

Reid was no further forward in understanding the cause of his irritation, but if it stopped he didn't need an explanation. After a moment he became aware of Garcia hovering beside him. He glanced sideways at her, a questioning look on his face.

"You might like to see this," she placed the shocking pink laptop in front of him.

He quickly read the script in front of him. It was Emily, she had replied to Garcia and was happy to talk to him. She wanted to know if he was there now.

"You just type in what you want to say and hit return, the programme does all the rest for you. I could bore you with how it encrypts and sends your message thorough various proxies, but I assume you trust me to have done a good job. I won't let anyone find her, I made mistakes in the past but I won't let her down. I'm going to get a coffee and something to eat, so you've got space to do your thing," Garcia turned to make her way to the door. "Oh it doesn't save what has been said, once you hit return it's gone. I guess with your memory that's not a problem, but it means you can say what you like without worrying about anyone else reading it," she winked and left.

Reid felt sick. _What could he say to her?_ He asked her what the Italian notes meant. That's why Garcia had contacted her. Professional, he needed to be professional.

'This is Reid. Can you explain the Italian notes to me? I can translate them but they don't make sense. I don't know how they relate to the information they are next to. Thanks.'

. . . . . .

Emily read the message. Her heart sunk. So blunt and to the point. She hadn't expected some mass out pouring of his feelings but a 'Hi, how are you?' would have been good. Slowly she typed back an explanation - that the notes were bits of telephone conversations she had over heard before she had gone fully undercover. Obviously her notes stopped once she was living with Doyle. Since he had escaped she had spent nights trying to match the notes to the rest of the information, hoping in vain to find a link that might explain who is helping him and what his plan was.

Reading her response made things seem a little clearer, though he wished Emily had brought this to the hospital, they could have worked on it together, and it would definitely have been easier than having to contact her each time he had a question.

'As a profiler, what sort of person is Doyle?'

Emily could barely stand the impersonal nature of his messages. She sent back a brief description and waited.

'Thank you.'

Thank you, _was that all he could say? _He wasn't interviewing a witness now. She steadied herself resisting the urge to add a sarcastic reply. She knew she had asked him to forget her, but didn't imagine it would be this quick.

. . . . . .

Garcia returned to see Reid reading the last of the records for the team's case.

"All OK Hon?" she asked tentatively.

He nodded and carried on reading.

"How's Em doing?" she continued.

Reid stopped and looked at her quizzically. "How should I know?"

"You just spoke to her - well messaged her - but let's not get picky."

"About Doyle," he corrected, "we talked about Doyle."

"Dr Spencer Reid," Garcia's tone made it clear she was irritated, "please tell me you talked about more than him."

Reid just shrugged.

"Reid," she snapped, "Emily needs us, she needs our support, she needs to know we are still here thinking about her, that we haven't forgotten. I thought you of all people could do that. If I had known this was how you would treat her I'd have never let you know."

"What do you know?" he snapped back, "I need Emily, I need her back. I offered to go with her, to support her through this, she turned me down. She told me to forget her. I can't. I want her back and I will do everything I can to get her back. This is how I get her back." His long index finger tapped the file in front of him. "This is what I'm good at; words, numbers, facts, figures. I take them apart and piece them back together again, hopefully finding Doyle in the process. If she had shared this with me months ago she may never have had to leave. Don't criticise me, she's the stubborn one."

Garcia stood opened mouthed; she had never heard Reid speak with such passion.

"Sorry," she finally managed.

They both sat down and carried on. Reid hoped they could soon feedback to the team, than he planned to take over the conference room and start his word play.


	8. Chapter 8

**So Near Yet So Far ****–**** Part 2**

**Disclaimer ****–**** I own nothing but the ideas**

**Ok so I have one more chapter ready then the last three are with my Beta. Now that I have completed the story I am off to catch up on Series 6 (we are so behind in the UK). I have tissues ready as I have heard 'Lauren' is a hard one. **

**. . . .**

**You're never gonna be alone from this moment on  
If you ever feel like letting go, I won't let you fall  
When all hope is gone, I know that you can carry on  
We're gonna see the world out, I'll hold you 'til the hurt is gone**

**. . . . . .**

As Garcia entered the conference room she was in awe. Placing the bags of take out down on the table she slowly spun round, trying to take in the mass of information surrounding them. To be honest it may as well still be written in Italian, as it meant very little to her. She couldn't help but wonder if this was how Reid felt in her office. She surrounded herself with screens and techno babble; he hid in boards and his scrawled notes. Each made perfect sense to their owner, but to the outside world it was gobbledygook.

Reid was so absorbed in his work that he had not noticed Garcia enter. She cleared her throat to let him know she was there. He looked up at her.

"Peace offering," she indicated towards the bags of food. "Besides Emily will never forgive me if you end up back in hospital because you haven't been eating properly."

"I have eaten today." Though he had to admit it was hours ago, as he hadn't realised the time.

"As you know I am in full support of a chocolate based existence in this world, but no matter how hard you try no one can survive on a diet of chocolate muffins. Trust me, if you could, I would, starting with a large chocolate muffin we both know well," Garcia closed her eyes and smiled cheekily.

"Garcia, that is almost enough to put me off chocolate for life!"

She chuckled and was glad to see him smiling. "I am sorry for earlier."

Reid looked down at his shoes. "So am I. We're all desperate to get her back; I shouldn't take out how I'm feeling on you."

"Sweet Pea, what else are friends for? So assuming I am forgiven and assuring you that you are, shall we eat?"

"Thank you."

. . . . . .

As Garcia scooped the last of the rice out the carton, she scanned the room again.

"You know only a true genius could work in such chaos."

"It's a good thing I'm a true genius then, isn't it?" The food had been just what Reid needed, even if Chinese was his least favourite take out. He hadn't realised how low his blood sugar had got. Garcia was right, if he was going to help Emily he needed to look after himself.

"Has it helped? Have you found out anything useful?"

Reid paused. "I've reviewed the profile. I don't want to criticise Emily but I think she has led the team to base the profile on what Doyle was like prior to prison. I think a lot of it is still true - people's base personality doesn't alter. But now his crimes are driven by revenge, and his motivation is the prominent feature here."

"Does that make him more or less dangerous?"

"It might make him more reckless. At the moment he is calm, methodical and organised. As his past criminal records confirm this is stereotypical of him. However, Emily removing herself like this is going to make him angry. . . "

"And then?"

"And then we hope he makes mistakes. If he makes mistakes we stand a better chance of catching him."

"Reid I know you are capable of surviving on two hours sleep, but I'm not. I've spoken to Hotch and the team is spending what's left of their day chasing the short list of women. Hotch suggested we call it a day, start afresh in the morning." Garcia took a deep breath. "I kinda promised Morgan we'd head back to his place together, as he doesn't want you on your own at the mo," Garcia bit her bottom lip nervously waiting for his response.

Reid knew there was no point arguing, and to be honest he was starting to enjoy having company, it had been a long time since he had spent an evening with someone and now getting use to having someone around. Though he had to admit he had preferred his time with Emily the most.

"I'm sure Clooney will be glad to see us," Reid said, carefully lifting his bag from the table.

. . . . . .

Slouching on the couch, Penelope put her feet up and opened her laptop. Reid was reading, curled up in a chair, mindlessly stroking Clooney who sat beside him. Watching him disappear into his own world she wondered about what had happened between Emily and him. She knew Emily had felt so guilty about what he had been through, and she knew Emily visited him daily in hospital, but had Emily been holding out on her. _Was there more to Prentiss and Reid than she knew?_

Penelope paused. She had spoken to Emily every evening since she left. Yet somehow tonight with Reid in the room it seemed wrong; eventually she could resist no longer.

_**'**__**Hey Hun, you want to chat?**__**'**_

Waiting patiently she considered asking Emily what the deal was with Reid, but decided against it.

_**'**__**Hey you, how**__**'**__**s things in Quantico?**__**'**_

'_**Got evening off, at Morgan**__**'**__**s with Reid, babysitting **__**–**__** lol. Hope team's back soon, case seems to be near the end.**__**'**_

She wondered if she should tell Emily about JJ returning. The laptop binged.

_**'**__**How**__**'**__**s Reid doing?'**_

_Oh God, did she have to answer that?_ She panicked. If she said he's ok then it sounds like he's not missing her and doesn't care. If she tells the truth then Emily will feel guilty.

"I assume that's Emily you're talking to," Reid stated without looking up from his book.

"No," the strain in her voice making the lie obvious, "it's . . . Morgan."

"Really?"

"Mmmm," she prayed he believed her.

_**'**__**He**__**'**__**s OK. Keeping himself busy helping the team and me.**__**'**_

Nothing. Penelope waited. And waited.

_**'**__**Can I talk to him?**__**'**_

_Shit_, if she said yes she had to admit to Reid she had just lied, if she said no then she risked hurting Em.

"Reid."

"Mmmm."

"It's not Morgan," she winced as she semi-admitted her deception.

"Really? You don't surprise me."

"Have I ever told you how much I hate profilers," she smiled, relieved he didn't seem cross. "Em wants to talk to you."

Finally he looked up from the book he had been consuming. He nodded his consent and Penelope passed the laptop over.

"Please be nice to her," she whispered as she left him to chat.

_**'**__**Hi, it**__**'**__**s Reid. How are you doing?**__**'**_

He didn't know what else to say.

'_**Crap! Spencer I know you are cross with me right now, but I never meant to hurt you. I didn**__**'**__**t mean to lead you on. You mean so much to me, I couldn**__**'**__**t lose you and I couldn**__**'**__**t be responsible for getting you hurt again. Please forgive me.**__**'**_

Spencer didn't know what to say. He wasn't really cross with her. He was hurt, she had hurt him just as much by leaving without him as Doyle had by stabbing him. It was just a different pain. At least Doyle's pain doctors were able to make go away. Nothing could make the pain of losing Emily go.

_**'**__**Sorry, I**__**'**__**m not good at this sort of thing. I miss you.**__**'**_

He was growing uncomfortable with the conversation.

_**'**__**I miss you too, please keep talking, don**__**'**__**t leave me here alone.**__**'**_

How could he refuse, she had sat there night in and night out when he had needed her. They continued to message for hours.

Garcia returned and then went to bed, leaving them to it. However she wanted it to be her fingers typing away, asking all the questions in her head, begging Em to come home. She wanted everyone back together and happy, she hated seeing her friends like this. A single tear traced down her cheek and plopped onto the pillow as she lay her head down.

**. . . . . .**

The following morning Garcia got the message that the team was on their way back. They had made the right call, one of the three women they had visited was the UnSub and now they left the locals to dot the i's and cross the t's.

That meant that Garcia and Reid could focus on Doyle and trying to put flesh on the bones he'd picked out yesterday. The two worked relentlessly until the team walked back in.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join in?" Morgan asked entering the conference room.

"Baby boy, you can party with me anytime you like." Penelope made her way over to give him a big hug.

"You two have been busy," Morgan scanned the room, he was use to Reid's way of working, but even by his standards this was something else. "I don't think this is quite what Hotch had in mind as far as keeping it quiet, what happens if Strauss walks in?"

Reid blinked.

"Kid, you really are something else. Please tell me it's all been worth it."

He nodded.

"I'll call the others in; you can brief us all before we go home."

Soon everyone was gathered around the table. Hotch indicated that he should start.

"Ok, we already know Doyle has an organised criminal mind. His previous operations were very methodical. He treated his criminal offences as a business. The violence was just a way of controlling the business outcomes. That is his frame of mind. However his current actions are not motivated by his 'business', this is purely about revenge. He wants to hurt those that have caused him pain. However the organised controlling part of his personality is making him enact that revenge in the same methodical way."

"So tell us how this helps us?" Rossi asked.

"When he came to my apartment, he made it clear that Emily would be the last of the team to die. He had an order; he had already killed Jeremy and Sean. I believe looking at the case notes that Tsia will be next then Clyde. Emily will be the last one, I'm certain."

"Right so why hasn't he got either of them yet?" Morgan questioned.

"Emily helped them go into hiding. I know she was in communication with them and that they are together, which is a problem, because if he gets one he gets the other."

"So do we hunt them down, or what?" Morgan's head was hurting.

"I don't know," Dave admitted reluctantly.

"It has given us something to think about." Hotch was starting to think they were going around in circles. They all needed a break. He wanted to help Emily but they were running out of options.

"Also, I used anagrams to come up with some possible names that he may be using. Anagrams didn't help, but with Garcia's help we have found a number of his previous associates have had recent financial transactions in the US."

Rossi leaned forward, "We have a lead on who's helping him?"

"Possibly," Reid said, getting out of his seat and heading to one of his boards. "These two are dead," he pointed to a couple of names he had circled in red.

"Stolen identities," Morgan questioned. "How did we miss this?"

"The names came up in Emily's handwritten notes; they were never part of the main investigation. Interestingly, although their bodies were found their deaths were never attributed to Doyle."

"Why was that?" Seaver asked.

"Good question. They disappeared long before the Interpol investigation started and the state of their bodies when they were found made it hard to establish cause of death - though there were signs of mutilation, possibly through torture - but nothing could be proved."

"If they disappeared before the investigation started, why were they in Prentiss' notes?" Rossi was interested in what Reid had found out.

He shrugged. "The notes are phone conversations she heard before she went into deep cover. He might of used what happened to them as a threat to control others, but what is more possible, from what Garcia has managed to dig out, is that he was using their accounts to launder the money he was making through his illegal activities."

"Good work, both of you," Hotch praised. "Reid this room cannot stay like this. We need to keep this low profile. Can you please stay long enough tonight to tidy things away?"

"But, aren't we going to do something?" Reid looked hurt at the team's dismissal.

"Not tonight, we need to build up a picture of what is happening. Tomorrow we will come at this fresh, tonight everyone needs rest. You included," Hotch's firm tone said it all.

As everyone started to leave, JJ hovered.

"You OK? Need a hand?"

Reid shrugged. He didn't know why he felt so awkward around JJ, he never had before. She had been gone less than a year, yet so much seemed to have happened.

"It will be OK. We'll get her back." JJ reached out to hug him, slowly he accepted.

"I miss her JJ. I promised myself that she wouldn't have to face this alone and she just walked away. She didn't want me," his gaze fell to the floor, as he fought back tears.

"Hey, you're not giving up hope are you?" JJ felt for her friend. "Emily is counting on you carrying on. She respects your skills; you can help her more here than you can sat by her side. She doesn't need company right now; she needs to know that the team is doing everything they can to get her back."

He looked up at JJ, trying to work out if she was telling him the truth, or trying to make him feel better.

"I love her JJ, I told her I love her, and she still walked away."

JJ hugged him tight. "You'll hold her again Spencer, and in years to come, when all the hurt has gone you will acknowledge how something so good can come from something so bad."


	9. Chapter 9

**So Near Yet So Far ****–**** Part 2**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**There are three more chapters after this, which are with my Beta - will post as soon as I can.**

**Oh, you've gotta live every single day  
Like it's the only one, what if tomorrow never comes?  
Don't let it slip away, could be our only one  
You know it's only just begun, every single day  
Maybe our only one, what if tomorrow never comes?  
Tomorrow never comes  
****. . . . .**

Reid was not happy with the way time seemed to be slipping away. Each step forward in tracing Doyle was followed by taking two steps backwards. He was good, too good. Doyle led them down paths they didn't need to go, he knew they were onto him and he was enjoying the game. He was taunting them and none of them liked it.

Meanwhile every chance Spencer got he was in with Garcia, borrowing her laptop, to talk to Emily. Conversation was flowing now. He was surprised how easy it was for him to talk to her this way. Spencer had to admit, after the initial awkwardness, he was able to tell her anything and everything, including how he felt about her. He just hoped he could tell her face to face.

Spencer lived each day as it came, like he had when he faced his addiction. He had won that battle, he would overcome this. He had to believe there was a light at the end of the tunnel, even if he couldn't see it yet. Spencer fought his way out of bed each day, not wanting to leave the sweet dreams he had had. He struggled to focus each morning on the tasks he had been assigned, itching to continue with his work on tracking Doyle; he swore he could hear him laughing. Relief came at lunchtime when he would chat with Em, telling her all the office gossip that she longed to hear, why puzzled him.

Each day was a personal battle, frustration was eating him up. He wanted to grab Hotch and shake him. Nothing was as important as getting Emily back, why could no-one else in the team see that? Why were they not doing everything they could to get her back? Why did she have to fit around everything else? Each time they got called into the conference room his heart sunk, more time away from helping Emily.

But today was even worse. He was late in due to an appointment at the hospital. The news was good, but bad, depending on your viewpoint.

Walking into the bullpen he headed straight for Hotch's office. He knocked and waited, in no rush to enter and share his news.

"Come in," Hotch finally called.

Spencer entered, noticing Rossi was there, the two had obviously been sharing some case notes, from the files open in front of them. Hastily Rossi cleared them, _probably their next case_.

Spencer hovered uncomfortably.

"Sit down," Hotch indicated the chair in front of his desk. Rossi still hadn't spoken.

"How did it go at the hospital?" Rossi asked.

"They're pleased with the progress I've made; apparently I am a good healer," Reid didn't make it sound a good thing.

"That's good, isn't it?" Rossi tried to encourage. It had become overtly obvious to all of the team how effected by all of this Reid was. They had assumed that being stuck in Quantico, trawling through Prentiss' files was getting him down. They thought that once he was fit enough to get back into the field, then he would pick up again.

Reid just shrugged at his question. "Guess so, they think I could be considered for a return to the field."

"But...?"

"I have got a second opinion and they aren't so sure."

"Really," Rossi eyebrow arched, "and does this second opinion come with the name of the doctor?"

Reid looked at the ground. "Dr Reid," he mumbled, "I don't think I'm ready, and we'll lose JJ if I got back into the field and we're still short staffed without Emily. This way I can still help and we keep JJ," he added rapidly.

Rossi and Hotch looked at each other knowingly.

"Reid I think it would do you good to get away from here and all that is going on here. I will request that you have a FBI medical and psych evaluation as soon as possible, then we can discuss this again," Hotch summarised.

Reid nodded and stood to leave.

"Hey Kid, you know we haven't given up on Emily, don't you." Rossi asked.

That familiar shrug...again.

"Reid, just because it is not plastered all over the conference room boards doesn't make Doyle any less of a priority for us. We have to be careful; Strauss has made this clear it is not our case. Interpol are doing things their way, so are we," looking at Reid's face, Hotch finally understood how he felt.

Reid left, returning to his desk.

"It's more than missing a colleague, isn't it?" Rossi turned to face Hotch.

"Looking that way. I don't know how we missed it before."

"Do you think he should be in the field, if his mind isn't fully on the job?"

"We'll take him with us and keep him at the base and see what happens."

. . . . .

Derek was waiting at Reid's desk.

"How's it going? You fixed yet?" he asked.

"Oh yes, fit and well to return to work." Reid added sarcastically.

Morgan's brow furrowed. "What's the problem then?"

"All this," he indicated the whole room, "everyone carrying on as if nothing has happened. Has everyone forgotten Emily is out there on her own? What happens if we don't catch Doyle? How long does Emily hide? I can't face the possibility that tomorrow will never come, that we will never see her again."

"Right, this way," Derek practically dragged Spencer to his office.

Pushing him into a soft chair, Derek drew another up to face him.

"I like you. You're a great kid," Derek's head dropped, "God, I should probably stop calling you that, but I can't help it. I know you really like Emily." Reid went to interrupt, but Morgan was quick to silence him. "I know this is tearing you apart, but we are not ignoring what has happened, I know you are working the case. Hotch is listening to you and assigning us all jobs to do going on what you have found out. Trust me the hours Pen is spending on the computer, I know, last time we had a movie night she never left her laptop alone. You are not the only person hurting, but if you don't keep a lid on it Strauss will find out, then . . ."

Morgan didn't need to spell that out for him.

"All I can think of is Foyet and Frank, and how things ended with them."

Morgan shook his head slowly. He could understand how worried Reid was and was running out of words of encouragement.

"We all knew this wouldn't be easy, but none of us thought it would take this long. He will make a mistake soon, and then we'll be there to catch him."

. . . . .

Reid sat staring at the screen. It had been over half an hour, but still nothing. Garcia came breezing back in.

"Hey Lover boy, what's happening in EP world."

"Nothing," he said, worry evident in his voice.

"OK, you don't have to share, just tell her I love her and will catch up with her later."

"I can't, she's not answering."

Penelope pulled a face, "Guess she's busy or something."

"But she knows I try and get in touch at this time of day. I needed to talk to her."

"Honey, you know Em she will not be sitting around doing nothing all day, waiting for one of us to contact her. That would drive her up the wall. She's probably lost track of time, tell you what if I hear anything this afternoon I'll let you know."

. . . . .

Reid's phone rung; groggily he reached for it, it was only nine o'clock, but Reid had been fast asleep.

"Yes," he answered curtly.

"Reid, it's me," Garcia's tone was strained, "Can you come over, quickly?"

Reid agreed, put the phone down and left.

Arriving at Garcia's apartment he ascended the stair quickly. Knocking, he waited impatiently.

"Quick, come in," Garcia practically pulled him as she opened the door.

"What's the matter?"

"She's still not answering and in the last hour someone has tried to hack me. I worried Reid, what do we do?"

"Put me on," Reid said sitting on her couch, in front of her laptop.

Garcia typed away rapidly, and then pushed the laptop towards him.

'This is SSA Reid. Where is Emily?'

"Reid what are you doing?" horror filled Garcia's voice.

"Speaking to Doyle," he said confidently, "Call Hotch and the others, we need them here."

The laptop binged. They looked at each other then the screen.

'Dr Reid, I do hope you're not in too much pain now. Luck of the Irish must be with you, as I was assuming you'd be dead. But at least you'll have empathy for what Emily is about to face. It's her turn, and the beauty is that you have no idea where to start looking for her to save her.'

They both picked up their phones and started calling the team.

Once everyone had arrived Reid started to explain how they knew Doyle had Emily.

"Garcia, you have broken every rule I can think of, and probably some I don't know," Hotch was furious.

Penelope couldn't look up, "I'm sorry sir."

"Why did you not tell us?"

Garcia looked up in surprised, her mouth opening but nothing coming out. "I . . . I . . . I don't understand sir."

"You shouldn't have done what you did, but at least we know Doyle has Prentiss, without this we may never have known until it was too late. Is there any way of using it to find out where she is?"

"If I let them hack me, I can back-hack and see if that locates them."

"Do it."

Penelope begun to type frantically, as if her own life depended on it.

Ironically, it did. More than ever.


	10. Chapter 10

**So Near Yet So Far ****–**** Part 2**

**Disclaimer ****–**** I own nothing but the ideas**

**Please remeber this was writen before I watched 'Lauren' (have now watched it - mmm?) so I know it isn't sticking to the canon storyline, but it's kind of in the right direction. **

**Time is going by so much faster than I  
And I'm starting to regret not telling all of this to you**

**. . . . . . .**

Through the overriding throbbing of her head, Emily was starting to become aware of her surroundings. The feeling of fear crept over her as she begun to remember. It was that fear that stopped her from doing anything. She willed herself to not react until she was able to know what she was reacting to. Confusion mixed with the pain, to fog her memory. In the surrounding darkness, Emily closed her eyes again, trying to focus on her other senses. The room was as silent as it was dark, through the dampness there was a definite chemical smell, stinging her nostrils. She knew she had been secured to a chair and without giving away the fact she was conscious she could not test her captivity.

"I know you're awake Emily," Doyle's familiar voice broke the silence, sending shivers down her spine.

Deep down she knew he had got her before he spoke, but the conformation terrified her, before there was hope it was still an overly realistic nightmare. Slowly she lifted her head, trying in vain to search the darkness for her nemesis. She failed to see him, yet was aware of his eyes on her, watching her every move. Silently she prayed for strength for what was to come. Emily heard the quiet footsteps approaching behind her. The sharp tug on her hair was a surprised, as she opened her eyes she looked up into the cold eyes of Ian Doyle. A sick smile graced his face.

"Emily, how I have waited for this moment," Doyle continued as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips, "just you and me." His sardonic laugh cut through her as she fought the increasing urge to panic. She would not beg, she would not crumble; when she had originally taken on the assignment she had known the risks, they all did. Now they were paying for their mistakes, she had to face this was her own fault, she could blame no-one else. Every action had a consequence, good or bad.

Doyle moved slowly and deliberately round in front of Emily, his hand resting on her shoulder. He crouched down in front of her.

"You have a choice, you can make this as easy or as hard as you like. Personally I'm hoping you'll fight me all the way, as I know I'll enjoy it if you do." Emily met his stare; she sure had no intention of making things easy for him, if she could.

"You're very quiet," Doyle lazily twisted a lock of her hair, "I hope you are not planning on giving me the silent treatment, as I promise you I will make you scream."

"Why haven't you killed me? You killed the others," Emily hoped her voice didn't betray her fear.

"Emily, Emily, Emily," Doyle head dropped and shook slowly, "surely you didn't think I would treat you the same as the rest of your team. After all, we're connected; you mean so much more to me than those who gave you to me."

Emily dreaded the next answer but decided the more talking he did, better her chances were.

"What have you planned for me?"

His smile widened. "Do you really want to know? I thought you would prefer a surprise."

Surprise wasn't exactly what she would call it. What he intended definitely wasn't the sort of surprise she preferred.

"If you must know," he was now standing behind her again, his fingers still entwined in her hair, "I intend to make you suffer as I have, one hour of pain for every year I was rotting in that hell hole."

As he spoke Emily became aware a knife had replaced his hand at her throat.

"Don't get your hopes up that this will soon be over though. Each hour will be separated by enough time for you to truly appreciate what is happening." He traced the knife down her throat; he slid the blade down her shirt, removing a button at a time.

Emily could feel his breath on her neck, as he whispered in her ear.

"Above all Emily I am going to enjoy every minute of my time with you. I promise you that when the time comes you will be begging me to kill you," he continued, "and I will make you beg."

Emily closed her eyes and prayed for a second time. Again she prayed for strength and also this time for an end.

. . . . . . . .

Garcia waited and watched; she was aware that everyone's eyes were on her. She was use to working on her own, under pressure, but on her own. It was distracting having the team there. She picked up her laptop and got off the couch.

"I can't do this," she rushed towards her room. Morgan went to follow. JJ rested a hand on his arm.

"Leave her, let her do her thing in peace," she reasoned, "She'll work quicker and faster without us breathing down her neck."

In the solitude of her bedroom, Garcia could concentrate. No more distractions. She focused on the screen in front of her. Whoever was at the other end of the system was good, but not savvy enough to see a trap when it was coming. She played her game well. Luring them to where she wanted them, letting them build a false sense of security in their actions. She was completely unaware of the smile creeping across her face. Like a spider waiting for the fly, she had spun her web; they just had to fly close enough to get caught.

. . . . . . . .

Emily was reeling from the pain, each blow had appeared worse than the last; she knew she had broken ribs and probably her cheekbone too. She could see the dark marks of blood on her shirt in the dull light of the room. This wasn't the first time she had suffered a beating at the hands of an UnSub, but it was the worse. He meant it, he wanted to hurt her. He somehow made it worse by pausing between punches to kiss or caress her, like he was torn between hating and loving her. Involuntarily she let out a moan as he hit her hard in the stomach. She fought the urge to be sick; she was still tied to the chair so had no way of defending herself.

"I'm impressed Emily, you have taken more than a lot of men I've known."

She could almost hear an edge of respect in his voice. That was before the final blow to her head. Her eyes fluttered as unconsciousness enveloped her.

In her sleep like state she dreamt. She dreamed of times her and Reid had shared, the hours they had sat together in hospital, how he had managed to take her mind off Doyle. The laughter they had shared. She pictured his smile, relived his touch. She dreamed of the life they could have had together, how she wished she had told him then how she felt. All the time they had had together had never been enough to say what needed to be said.

. . . . . . . .

The team jumped as they heard the squeal coming from Garcia's bedroom.

"Hotch, you need the plane, like yesterday," Garcia yelled as she run back into the room. "Emily's computer is in Carson City, I will carry on trying to get something more specific, but that is a long flight and . . . and . . ." Garcia's voice faltered as she realised what she was about to say. It hit her there and then they had no idea if they were already too late.

JJ touched Garcia's outstretched hand as the team started making their way out of Garcia's apartment.

"Are you going to be ok here on your own?"

Open mouthed Penelope nodded. "Go, bring her back, safely. Please!"

JJ shuddered at the desperation in Penelope's voice, she felt torn between staying with one friend and going to help another. Squeezing Pen's hand she left, catching up with the team at their various vehicles.

Hotch was already on the phone, barking orders at someone. JJ assumed he was sorting the flight. She knew what he was risking doing this. Strauss had made it explicitly clear that the team was off the case and if they found out anything they were to pass on the information. Yet as they piled into hers and Morgan's cars this didn't seem to faze Hotch at all. In fact he seemed more determined than ever. She missed the team, they reacted as one, and so much was done without anything being said. Everyone knew they risked disciplinary action, but had anyone questioned what they were doing?

. . . . . . . .

Emily was lying on a dirty mattress when she woke. The smell of urine was unbearable; she dreaded to think what had already happened on it, yet alone what was to come. Her hands were bound in front of her, but her feet were free. She tried to push herself up to sitting, but the pain soon had her face down in the mattresses. She tried again, in vain. On her third attempt she was startled by the cruel laugh admitting from the far corner of the room.

"I've got to give it to you Emily, you really don't know when to give up," Doyle moved steadily towards her.

Emily watched as she started to make out the shape of Doyle approaching from the darkness. _Had he been watching her the whole time?_

"Please accept my apology for the state of the accommodation. I know you always had much more refined tastes, but you made me change my plans at the last minutes. Running away like that was not a good move. I had something much better set up in Virginia."

"We could always go back there, I'd hate to ruin your plans," Emily spat at him.

He chuckled at her venom. "We're not that different Emily, you and I. We could have made an amazing team. Your mind and mine, no-one would have crossed us."

"I . . . am . . . nothing . . . like . . . you," Emily was really struggling, the agony was still all consuming and she knew there was more to come.

"Emily, you don't see why they sent you after me," he gently smoothed strands of her hair from her face.

Emily tried to pull away from his touch, but ended up wincing at the pain.

"They knew I would respect you, that I would admire your independence and your spirit," he continued, "However falling in love and trusting you so quickly was a real bonus… Did Sean or Clyde ever question you sleeping with me? Did they tell you to do it, or was that your own personal flourish?"

"What do you think I am?" Emily was furious. "I wasn't their puppet. I made my own calls; I did what I had to."

"And you had to do me," he laughed, tracing his hand down her body. "Guess it's time I returned the favour." His hand was on the button of her pants. Emily froze. "This time Emily, I do you."


	11. Chapter 11

**So Near Yet So Far – Part 2**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**OK decided it was mean to keep you hanging on - one more chapter after this.**

**You're never gonna be alone from this moment on  
If you ever feel like letting go, I won't let you fall  
When all hope is gone, I know that you can carry on  
We're gonna see the world out, I'll hold you 'til the hurt is gone**

**. . . **

No one on the plane had the heart to tell Reid how his constant tapping was getting on their nerves. They could all now see clearly, what they had all known before. He loved her. Yes, the whole team loved her, but not in the way he did.

The flight was strange, normally they would be reading files, sharing notes and ideas, but this was different. They were heading to help a friend in need. They felt they knew her enemy personally. They had all spent hours reading the files. They knew who they were facing, but what? That was a different matter.

Morgan cranked up his music to drown out the sound, but found himself watching Reid's fingers drum out their rhythmic pattern. He wanted to focus, be ready for whatever was to come. Morgan was realistic, Emily would be suffering at the hands of Doyle, in ways he didn't even want to think about. He was determined to be first in, he wanted to protect Reid, he didn't need to see her like that, however _that_ was.

Hotch felt he should say something, _but what?_ He didn't need to rally his troops; they were well and truly motivated. Emily being in the hands of a psycho, hell bent on revenge, was more motivation than any of them needed. He wanted to warn them, but warn them about what? _What were they going to face?_

Rossi was struggling, he had always been close to Prentiss, she had trusted him, but not this time. This time she had walked away from the team. He didn't blame her for hiding, he understood why she had done it, but yet again they had the proof that witness protection was not foolproof. He liked to think the team could have done better.

JJ was staring out if the window. She had wished for a chance to be back with the team, but this was not how she imagined it would be. She had shared so much with Emily, things that she couldn't share with Penelope, the bits that got to you out in the field. She hoped Emily could lean on her the way she had leant on Emily in the past.

Seaver looked round the team. She didn't know what to say or do. She felt like the little sister being allowed to tag along. She was grateful that Emily had taken her on, given her a second chance after the mistakes she had made.

The bing of the laptop bought them all back from their personal thoughts, all except Reid, he still stared and tapped.

Garcia popped up on screen, her garish lounge an unusual background.

"I have managed to track the wireless signal Emily's laptop is using," she begun, "They must be using a dongle and cell phone network. The area it is coming from is part of an industrial estate, some warehouses are used for food prep and packing, the other buildings are abandoned warehouses or offices. Therefore I am assuming it is where Em is being held. If they had left the laptop at where Em had moved to, it would be an urban area, right?" Garcia paused, hoping that her assumptions were correct, "Anyway, I have sent the location through to you. I have taken the liberty to contact the nearest field office, they will have agents meet you at the airport and have sent others straight to the area to see if they can narrow down the location for us."

"Thank you Garcia, you have been amazing, as usual,"

Morgan raised an eyebrow at Hotch's rare compliment.

"Sir," Garcia added.

"Yes."

"Let me know," she continued "whatever the news, let me know. Please, don't make me wait."

"We will."

Garcia mouthed a thank you as she disconnected. Settling back she waited, fighting each horrible thought that entered her head. Truly she believed if she thought positively then the outcome would be positive. Now she wished she'd gone with the team, rather than sit and wait.

"Why did they take the laptop?" Seaver asked, breaking the silence.

Rossi shrugged. "Maybe Doyle thought it might hold information that would be useful to him."

"Or that he could wind me up some more after his message earlier," Reid speaking surprised the others. They had believed he was so absorbed by his thoughts right now that he hadn't been listening.

And they were half right. Reid's thoughts were consuming him. He was trying to prepare himself for whatever was to come. He had wished day in and day out to see Emily again, but not like this. He knew first-hand what Doyle was capable of, the pain he could inflict in a short time, let alone the length of time Doyle had had her. They had to get there in time.

The rest of the flight passed in silence. An eerie silence.

. . .

Emily huddled into the corner. Making herself as small as possible. She had given up trying to get comfortable, whatever she did it hurt. Though somehow the pain was comforting, it let her know she was still alive. But for how much longer she didn't know. Emily knew she was losing the battle. She was regularly slipping in and out of consciousness and all the time he was watching her, waiting for the right time to make his next move.

"Did you realise I loved you Emily?"

She tried to lift her head. Tried to show she wasn't beaten, that he hadn't won. But her body failed her. Laying down again she concentrated on her response.

"I didn't think you were capable of loving anyone."

He snorted, rising again from the shadows. "Am I somehow incapable of feelings? Is that what you believe?"

Emily shrugged and rapidly regretted it.

"You are a killer Emily, like it or not, you kill people. How many have you shot in your time with the FBI? You carry a weapon daily and would use it without thinking twice if the situation called for it. You'd do it right now if you could," his voice was calm and controlled; "I am no different. I have only killed out of necessity, to protect my business, my beliefs, my friends. The only difference is you are given permission to kill."

"I . . . am . . . nothing . . . like . . . you," Emily knew he was trying to play games with her, but she was beyond games.

"You are, why will you not admit it? What are you scared of? Emily, confess your sins to me. Die with a clear conscious."

Emily shook her head. She had nothing to say to him.

"Did it bother you that I loved you?" he pushed again.

No answer.

"Did . . . it . . . bother . . . you . . . that . . . I . . . loved . . . you?" Doyle shouted in Emily's face.

As the rage took over him, Emily knew what was to come; maybe this time would be the last time.

. . .

Hotch had taken charge on arrival. He was glad that the team sent out to the location had kept their distance from the potential hide out of Doyle and his supporters. He started giving orders. He knew his team was prepared and ready to go first, but he needed to know the locals were ready to back them up.

Strategically they prepared to move the vehicles closer, surprise was on their side but they had no idea what they were facing. The field agents had got close enough to find out something to help the initial attack, but once they were inside, who knew? That was why the other agents had to stay out. This was their fight, it had become personal.

They worked well as a team, their movements were fluid. Surprise got them close before they came under attack. The sound of automatic fire shattered the air. Morgan was first through the door, taking down anyone that moved. They had paired up and without another word started searching through the building.

Reid was with Morgan, he followed barely a footstep behind. As room after room was declared clear, Reid's heart begun to drop, he worried that they had somehow got it all wrong. Then it happened. Morgan hit the door, it gave way, as all the previous ones had. However this time Morgan stumbled backwards into Reid. He had taken a shot to the arm.

"Shit," he hissed. "She's in there. Be careful. I'll back you."

Reid looked round the door frame, hearing Morgan call the rest of the team through his mic. There she was, crumbled on the floor like a piece of discarded rubbish. Standing over her was Doyle.

"Dr Reid, how glad I am that it is you who made it to Emily," his tone was flat and even again, "Shame it's only to see her die."

He was not going to see her die. Not today. He had to do this, he knew he could. Taking the step into the doorway he took the shot. He shot the man who had sliced him up to hurt Emily. He shot the man who had tortured Emily and was about to kill her. One clear, clean shot and he was dead.

At least he hoped he was dead, as Reid was incapable of moving. Incapable of checking. _What if he got there and Emily was already dead? _

Morgan stood beside him, holding his injured arm. He nudged him forward as he waited for the team to join them.

Auto-pilot kicked in. First Reid checked Doyle was dead and disarmed him just in case. Then he went to Emily. She was breathing, just. Her eyes fluttered open as he took her into his arms.

"Spencer?"

"I'm here Emily, you're safe," Reid soothed. Reid pulled her tight calling for the medics. He hugged her trying to absorb her pain. When the paramedics arrived he didn't want to let go. JJ held onto him as they took her. He watched her leave, leaving him again.

"I'm going with her," he called, "She's not going to be alone again."


	12. Chapter 12

**So Near Yet So Far ****–**** Part 2**

**Disclaimer ****–**** I own nothing but the ideas**

**This final chapter is set several months later. I'm sorry if this isn't quiet what people imagined, but I wanted to stay true to my orignal title. Thank you to everyone who has supported me with story - it has grown so far from the orginal idea. Especially thanks to Flashpenguin (my Beta) for her time and encouragment. **

**I'm gonna be there always  
I won't be missing a word all day  
I'm gonna be there always  
I won't be missing a word all day**

**. . . . .**

Emily eased herself into the seat on the plane. She didn't want to know how Hotch had managed to arrange the use of the jet to get her back to Quantico but was grateful that he had. She couldn't have faced a commercial flight yet. Looking up she could see the concern on Spencer's face.

"I'm fine," she muttered, before he had chance to ask.

"Obviously you're not," he began. "Do you really need me to recall the list of injuries? Or are you going to stubbornly try and ignore them all?"

She glared at him.

"I thought you were here to help me?"

"I am," he added, "Just like you helped me when I was in hospital."

"Impossible," she counter-argued, "You don't do sarcasm as well as I do."

They both smiled.

Emily hadn't felt like smiling in a long while. Even though Spencer had made the journey to see her as often as possible, her recovery so far had been a long and painful one. And she knew there was still a long way to go; however finally being considered fit enough to move back to Quantico was a huge step in the right direction. Emily was glad that Spencer was there to take the step with her.

As the plane took off each shudder shook her to the bone. She winced repeatedly. Spencer watched, wishing he could take away all the pain. He could empathise with her, but he knew she wouldn't let him. He wondered if stubbornness was a compulsory attribute to independence.

Emily's gaze settled on the clouds outside the window. Spencer could see the tears in her eyes.

"Talk to me Emily, tell me, anything, everything," he spoke gently, "I'm here . . . always."

She continued to stare into nothing, allowing a tear to roll down her cheek. She sighed deeply. _Where did she begin?_

"Do you think it will ever be the same again?"

Spencer looked confused.

"I have lied to everyone," she continued, "I ran away and left you all to it. Why should anyone trust me again?"

"Em, we understand," Spencer moved to sit beside her; "We know why you did what you did. Whether that was right or wrong we could debate forever." He sighed.

Emily turned towards him. He hated to see her cry, but knew that this was something he would have to learn to live with if he was going to see her through this, and he had every intension of doing that. He would be there every day for her, listening, unbiased and without want of anything from Emily. He loved her, without a doubt, but this wasn't about his feelings. What the future held, well that was a long way off now - actually it was never if they couldn't get through this.

"Spencer, I'm not who I was," she hesitated, "I'm not sure I can be me again. I had locked this part of me away, I thought, forever. Lauren and all the baggage that went with it was all gone, out of sight and out of mind. I don't know if I can do that again. I haven't got the strength to package this up and hide it away. I'm damaged goods. Why would anyone want anything to do with me?"

Spencer looked deep into her eyes. They were dull and lifeless. He longed to see the smile back in them; that was now his life-long goal. He reached across and pulled her close to him.

"Emily, we all want you," he whispered.

. . . . .

Emily hated the empty shell of her apartment, but she couldn't go back there. As she collected the last few things that mattered most, she looked around trying hard to remember something good about the place she was standing in. She had never called it home, she was never there enough to call it home. She had never invited the team back there, wanting to protect it from work.

Previously she had thought life was neatly packaged into small bundles, separate to each other. But now she knew life flowed, like a river, uphill and down, whatever obstacle crossed its path it continued to run its course. That was how Emily knew she had to adapt. She could not go over, under or round this obstacle, she had to go straight through this.

By the time she finished, she ached. To be honest ached was an understatement. But the pain was different, it felt good, she was finally doing something constructive. No longer was she sitting there waiting for life to happen, today she was taking control again. She had packed her things and in a short while Spencer was going to help her move into his.

She didn't know if it was a long term, but right now it was what she needed. She couldn't be alone any longer. She had realised the hard way how important her friends were. She was going to hold on to them this time.

As she waited she tried to think clearly about Reid. Before her recent meeting with Doyle she had grown closer to Reid. She didn't want to risk hurting him, but she knew she couldn't make any promises. Right now she needed friends, she couldn't think further than that.

. . . . .

Spencer entered Emily's apartment. He could see her standing at the end of the hall, staring out of the window. She did that a lot now. He wondered what was going through her mind when she did this.

When Hankle had tortured him, he had hid in a haze of drugs. It hadn't made what had happened to him any easier to deal with. In the end he just ended up fighting twice. Emily wasn't hiding, she was facing this head on and he admired her for that. He had forced himself to read the account of what she had gone through. He had technically read worse, but this had reduced him to tears. What Doyle had done was unimaginable to Reid.

"Em," he spoke softly, "Em, you OK?"

Slowly Spencer walked the length of the hall, towards her. As he drew near she seemed to finally hear him.

"Hey," she half smiled, "I was miles away."

"I noticed," Spencer lazily put an arm round her waist and gave a little tug. Willingly Emily fell onto Spencer's shoulder. He tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead softly. Holding her in his arms they both watched the world pass by outside the window.

Emily leant further into Spencer. They had been through so much together. They had come so near to something special. Yet right now, to Emily, she knew it was still so far away. Maybe one day she would be happy again, she would smile unconditionally and she prayed that when she did, when that day came, Spencer would be there to share it with her.


End file.
